


stop doing what you do (keep doing it too)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cold Showers, Coulson loves Skye's voice and that's canon, Coulson thinks Skye is the best thing since sliced bread, Coulson's arms, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fools in Love, Future Fic, Gunshot Wounds, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Alternating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Scars, Sexual Frustration, Skye and her Huge Crush on Coulson, Skye has a weird scar kink, Skye is no innocent little girl, Unresolved Sexual Tension, feminist!Coulson and his struggles, hot and bothered, mention of Grant Ward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times Skye And Coulson Took A Cold Shower (And One Time They Didn't), basically.</p><p>Skye and Coulson struggle against their obvious sexual tension to be able to concentrate on the job. They fail miserably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stop doing what you do (keep doing it too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



> Inspired by a scene in Skyepilot's fic [Resistance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2150721) and the image of Coulson having to take a cold shower because of Skye.
> 
> I shamelessly ripped off some dialogue from "Dan in Real Life".

**i.**

She walks into the scene right after breakfast.

"What is this?"

"Director Coulson's regular check-up. You're up next week, Skye."

Simmons sounds way too excited at the perspective. But Skye is not concerned about that.

Coulson is concentrated, the speed quite high on the treadmill. He seems all right, though, like, Skye has very little doubt he's going to pass the physical with flying colors. Which is kind of the problem here.

The first thing she thinks is that this is what a lifetime in SHIELD does to your body.

The second thing she thinks is that those tailored suits really don't do his arms any justice.

It's not like she didn't know he was in great shape – she's seen him on the field, the way he moves, the energy – but this is the first time she's seen him in clothes which confirm that intimation. He's not tall or impressively built but in shorts and t-shirt it becomes pretty obvious he has nothing to envy younger, seemingly fitter agents.

It takes Skye aback, her own reaction at seeing him like this. He's just running for a physical, she tells herself, and while this is not the first time she's realized her boss is an objectively attractive man, it's the first time she finds it hard to be around the living proof of just how much she finds him to be exactly that.

All that sweat. She never had a thing for sweatiness but the way those drops are making their way down Coulson's neck towards his shoulder is definitely not yucky. Even though in concentration he is smiling as he runs, obviously pleased with his own progress in the tests, and sweat pools in the lines of his face, the little wrinkles at the corners of his mouth, dying to be licked.

He's not sweating, he's basically glistening.

Coulson notices her presence in the room.

"Hi," he says, half-panting, still running.

She stares for a moment.

"No," Skye mutters, turning around and walking away.

 

+

 

She turns the water from warm to lukewarm.

Cold showers was a thing she thought was completely made up, a thing that only happened in the movies. But it's true, her whole body feels like on fire. She needs something to cool herself down.

She can't say she has never thought about Coulson in that way, she has, sort of – but lately the intensity of these unconvenient thoughts is getting _worse_. She can't pretend this is not A Thing.

It has been happening since before they came to the Playground. She realized at the moment that part of the reason why she was attracted by the idea of dating Ward and part of why she was actually hesitant to jump into it when the time came was because she was becoming aware of her hopeless, inconvenient crush on Phil Coulson. But hey, thinking about Ward sure is the fastest way to kill the mood – except she is afraid it goes too far in the other direction and if she keeps at it she won't be able to have a sexual thought for years.

All in all she'd rather be thinking about Coulson's sweaty arms, with all its complications, so she does.

 

+

She is feeling a lot better after the shower, a lot less... ridiculous.

Unfortunately Coulson catches her as she is walking into the kitchen – blissfully his arms are covered this time, he seems to have just finished the physical, but he has thrown a sweater on. Skye can still see how his hair, damp with sweat, sticks to his skin. 

"Are you okay?" he asks her. "You seemed distraught before."

Distraught is a good word, she thinks. She is going to use it from now on. She is distraught about Coulson and his sweaty body and – no, she's just doing it again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about something else. You know me, not really a morning person."

He nods, but Skye can tell that he probably can tell she's bullshitting him.

"How was the physical?" she asks, trying to change the subject. "There's nothing wrong with you, right?"

"Nothing." He pauses, pensive. "Well, a bit heavy on the iron but –"

She cuts him. "Stop it, boss, that joke is never, ever going to sail."

"Simmons laughed," he argues, almost pouting.

"Simmons is still intimidated by authority."

"And you're not?" he challenges her, almost playful.

Skye crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Remind me again how we met?"

He smiles at that, warm and open and that smile is way worse than his surprisingly muscled arms or a drop of sweat trickling down his neck.

 

 

**ii.**

He's up earlier than usual today, another bout of sleeplessness biting at his side.

He needs some coffee.

He is not expecting to find anyone in the kitchen at this hour.

Skye is there, though, in the soft light of a fake sunrise, at the counter, eating cereals and pouring over something on her laptop. Coulson startles her a bit when he walks in.

"This is a bit too early for you to be up," she tells him. There's a knowing pride in this, because since she has started training with May the truth is Skye has become sort of the unofficial early riser in the team, despite her protestations that she doesn't do mornings well.

Coulson should have known she'd be here.

She smiles at him, slow and open and too-early-in-the-morning kind of smile.

He notices the attire – something about it is odd, too domestic. She's wearing a large flannel shirt, the kind she doesn't anymore (she's a field agent now, she suits up like the rest of them), and very short denim shorts, old and worn by use and faded. She's barefoot and sitting comfortably. Coulson can make out the pale line of what he imagines was an old childhood scar very high on her inner thigh. He has never seen it before.

Skye catches him staring at her clothes.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, laundry day. Don't you hate it?" He gives her a blank look. She chuckles nervously. "Of course not, you must have only like a million of those suits."

The picture in front of him bothers him, frutrastes him.

He has forgotten what he was supposed to do in here.

"Do you want some coffee?" she asks. "I just made it."

Coulson nods, not knowing what to say.

There's that smile again.

As she moves enthusiastically towards the coffee machine it becomes obvious she's not wearing a bra and it makes Coulson feel like a dirty old man for even noticing. It goes normally the other way with Skye – she makes him feel like an idealistic recruit most days, and that can be dangerous as well.

But she's a good agent, she deserves better. She's a great agent and Coulson is not willing to make a simple object out of her like this. In all his years in SHIELD he has seen it happen too many times, to too many good agents and he had always felt disgust for all those leering S.O.s salivating at the sight of some young subordinate.

He can see himself from outside, a sad middle aged guy clinging to some misguided idea of youth in the shape of a young woman under his command and the way a too-big flannel shirt slips off her shoulder and exposes the curve of muscle and bone underneath. He knows he's not that guy. If he were this would be easy. If that was he and Skye this would be easy. And _safe_.

When Skye hands him the cup of coffee he notices her cheeks are flushed pink.

He takes the coffee and mutters a dim thank-you. He turns to leave, watching from the corner of his eye the way Skye's lips purse in a disappointed way.

 

+

 

There's a Gary Cooper film where he has to apply cold water to the back of his neck every time he gets overwhelmed by desire for Barbara Stanwyck.

But he is not a bumbling lingustics professor who doesn't know what to do with his urges. He is the fucking Director of SHIELD.

And anyway just a bit of cold water on the nape wouldn't have done, Coulson reflects as he gets into the shower.

He's betrayed Skye in a bad way today and what eats at him is that he doesn't think this is the first time – there was that night in that third rate motel, sitting on ugly garden furniture by the pool. He's done this before. But this is the first time he feels like the feeling is out of his control.

"I'm not a horrible person," he whispers against the flow of water.

He turns the water cold for a couple of minutes. It stings like hell, but that's exactly the kind of distraction he wanted.

It wasn't just the clothes. If it were he wouldn't worry. This is not the first time in his career he notices the body of a fellow agent. He's worked with Natasha Romanoff, for fuck's sake. But he's good at clinical, at detached. Noticing is not desiring. And desiring is not longing.

This definitely feels like longing.

The clothes he could have dealt with – the image of domesticity is what knocked the air out of his lungs. Seeing Skye first thing in the morning, sitting at the kitchen counter, looking relaxed and almost happy, and smiling at him _like that_. It had put old desires into new light and for the first time in many months he feels the temptation of a life that is not this life. But this time, unlike all those moments before, he factors Skye into the equation.

Maybe he hasn't really changed.

Maybe he is a middle aged guy clinging to youth and this is his way of doing it and he is bringing Skye down with him.

 

+

 

The next time he sees Skye, in the morning meeting in his office, she is wearing her usual, worklike clothes and she avoids his eyes for a little while.

 

**iii**

Sometimes she can almost hate him.

Times like this, mainly, when he is being all sweet and helpful and he refuses to understand she has screwed up.

He has his hand on the back of her shoulder, touching her gingerly at first but now drawing warm circles with his fingers openly.

"Skye," he says, in that voice that makes her want to stop feeling sorry for herself, which is why she could almost hate him in moments like this, because she'd very much like to feel sorry for herself, thank you. "I assure you, I would have made exactly the same call. None of us could have suspected it was dangerous."

Skye wants to rolls her eyes at that but she doesn't. Coulson's hand slides until his palm is pressed against the hollow between her shoulderblades and his arm is practically around her shoulder. She is beginning to feel simultaneously uncomfortable with that half-embrace and hungry for more of it.

"Everyone is okay," Coulson is telling her, breathing into her hair.

"But I designed the mission."

"And you will design many more. And some of them are going to go south, and you'll make some mistakes. No one can stop that from happening. It doesn't mean you were wrong or that today was your fault."

She snorts.

"Tell that to Trip."

"Trip will be fine. You don't think this is the first time Trip gets hurt on the field, do you?"

She feels a shiver down her spine. She wonders if he notices it, holding her like this.

"I'm not sure I can be the cause of people getting hurt," she says.

Coulson brings his fingertips to her chin, her neck, cupping her face in his hand.

"Do you want to be the cause of people being safe and sound?" he asks. She nods against the touch of his fingers. "Trip put his life at risk because he knew you could make that happen, he did it to protect people. We all would put our lives in your hands in a heartbeat. We trust the way you see things."

Skye has no idea what to say to that – he is doing it _again_ – so she lets her head fall against Coulson's chest, sighing in what she hopes he takes for self-pity and not frustration. He shifts on her bed, tucking her under his chin and properly putting his arm around her. She feels like crying. She feels guilty she is not thinking about Trip's injuries anymore but about the way Coulson smells and the way his other hand is resting gently on her knee. She puts her arms around his waist, under his jacket, giving into the impulse for the only moment where she thinks it's safe. 

Skye knows Coulson is comforting her and she appreciates the gesture and it's not really his fault that she wants more than comfort right now. Or rather she wants a different kind of comfort. It's really confusing to feel this sad and disappointed at herself while wanting to push Coulson down on her bed so they can fuck each other senseless. She wants him to touch her, but not like he is touching her now.

She puts her hands up to his chest (his deep breaths are hypnotic under her fingertips) to try and push him away before she does something stupid, but she can't find the strength.

"I need to get myself cleaned up," she says, lying, just to have some space from him.

"Of course."

He has to be the one to let go first.

 

+

 

It's easier to focus on how much she would like to jump Coulson right now than it is to focus on the cause; than to remember how sweetly he was talking to her some minutes ago and how soft and careful his touch was. The way he held her, gently but tightly.

Skye can understand having a freaking crush on someone who treats you so nicely, specially since there has been an abundance of the other thing in her life.

But a crush is one thing and the way she was about to completely lose it back in her room is another.

She wishes Miles hdn't turned out to be a lying jerk so she could phone him up in times like these. She could probably use their old intimacy (they were friends way before they were anything else) as a crutch in this situation. 

She tries to justify herself by telling herself she's horny, and definitely very lonely. But then she starts thinking about other members of the team and that theory falls on its ass: she thinks about Trip and nothing, she thinks about Fitz and definitely nothing, she thinks about Simmons, nope, she thinks about May... okay she might find May hot if she wasn't so scary and her S.O. and things weren't so familiar between them these days. Except well, things have always been familiar between her and Coulson and that hasn't stopped her. So that's another theory gone. She is not an idiot: she knows this is a Coulson-thing not a horny-thing.

It's been a long time since she's felt this frustrated.

The water runs cold but the ache between her legs and in her heart doesn't cool down so easily.

She needs to unwind or she's going to slip in front of Coulson and ruin everything between them.

And it's tempting, right here, in the privacy of the shower which is as much privacy as it gets in the Playground (at least in the base she doesn't have to worry about Fitz hearing her, the way she does when she is in her bunk on the plane) and she has been historically known for her speed. Maybe that's not something she should be proud of but hey, orphanage kid, it's natural.

It's tempting but she resists the temptation.

She will not masturbate thinking about her kind, loyal, trusting boss, she promises herself. She will be an adult about this. She's not a horny teenager. She is not a bad person and she will not betray everything Coulson has done for her by tainting their relationship like this. He would be so grossed out if he knew.

But what if he wasn't grossed out? an evil little voice in her mind asks. Skye tries to ignore it but it's already put the idea there. What if Coulson likes it? That she might get off thinking about him?

Maybe she _is_ a bad person.

But the mental image of Coulson, with his perfect suit and his face, watching her as she – 

_Oh god_ , she thinks, this is going to be a long, _really cold_ shower.

 

+

 

Coulson is waiting in her room when she comes back, still sitting on her bed.

He gives her a weak, tiny smile when she walks in.

He stands up, but Skye is not likely to forget the sight of him quietly sitting on her covers, waiting for her. She just wishes the context was different.

"Better?" he asks, and he does a very weird thing, stepping into her space and grabbing the lapels of her robe, pulling at them until it's perfectly closed, like he is somehow afraid she's going to catch a cold. He doesn't let her go, his fingers still twisted into the soft fabric.

She nods.

"Simmons just called," he says and her head shot up. "The doctors are discharging Trip within the hour."

Skye lets out a long breath.

"Told you," he adds.

"Yeah..."

Coulson leans into her and places one gentle kiss on her forehead.

 _Goddamnit, Coulson_ , she thinks, wanting to hate him. She's just gone through this. She is too exhausted to pretend.

 

**iv**

"I'm sorry I can't be there with you."

"You have to coordinate a hundred other things," he tells her. "You're more useful leading everybody. And I'm not completely useless, I can follow your instructions."

"I know you can," she says, adamant, and the sound of that supportive tone in his ear fills Coulson with a strange calm. "May and Trip have already broken into the other building."

He wonders how she does it. Coulson is not bad at multi-tasking but he has seen Skye pay attention to a dozen things at the same time, coordinate multiple team maneuvers while she works on a complicated hack. Her competence and cold blood is surprising given that she didn't have formal training on how to work under pressure.

"Are you seeing the green screen already?" she asks.

"Not yet."

"Okay, let me try something."

It only takes a few seconds. "It's working," Coulson says.

He can hear a proud clicking of the tongue at the other end of the line. Skye is good and she knows it, he likes that about her. He knows it probably comes from the fact that for the longest time no one else was there to compliment her but whatever the case her self-confidence is actually reassuring, he feels in safe hands when she takes the mission in hers.

"Now use the drive. I won't be able to do the hack for you, but I will be able to tell you what to do, I'll be seeing what you see."

From then on it's slow, methodical work. Skye pauses frequently to pay attention to what May and Trip are doing and to give Coulson updates. 

He himself is doing okay with the job. It helps Skye is not talking down to him – despite what FitzSimmons think about his incapacity to operate the Holotable he is not completely useless with a computer. Skye doesn't seem to worry that he is – she wouldn't have designed the mission like this if she thought so.

"Now delete the third line and you're done," she tells him.

He does and Skye is able to extract the information she needs from the computer.

There is something soothing about working like this. Skye in his ear, telling him exactly what to do, the slowness of computer science. He likes taking orders from her and his mind strays into sadly familiar territory for a moment.

He's on a mission, he can't afford to do that.

Almost as if on cue the world goes completely pitch-black and he hears a snapping noise, the humming of electricity suddenly cut off.

"Shit," he mutters.

"What?" Skye asks, worried. He would be, too, if the roles were reversed.

"The power is off. I'm in the dark."

"Yeah, I think that was May cutting the main so they could access the other wing," she explains. "It's okay, get your PDA, I'm sending you a map of place with your position on it."

She does. It's easy to find the way, even in complete darkness. It takes him more time than it should, but there's no immediate danger, unless he takes a wrong turn and falls down the stairs.

"I've got you," Skye tells him, keeping up with his progress on her screen as well. "You're on the right track."

"Thanks."

"And you are fine, right? You're not afraid of the dark or anything."

He smiles.

"No, Skye, I'm not afraid of the dark. I don't think they let you be a SHIELD agent if you're afraid of the dark."

"Well, I am a bit afraid of the dark," she says. He doesn't know if she is saying that to make conversation or if that's really true, or both. If that's true he didn't know, and he has never seen proof of it. But that doesn't mean she's lying, she keeps her fears pretty well-hidden.

"I won't tell your boss," Coulson says.

He thinks he can literally hear her lips curling into a smile.

"Well, thanks for keeping my secret."

The word _secret_ , whispered like that, makes him stop for a moment. His chest heaves and he is a bit appalled at how little it takes to raise such a reaction from him.

Then the lights come on again. Coulson looks around, narrowing his eyes at the sudden shock of visibility. He's already on the first floor. He feels a bit disappointed – he was enjoying walking in absolute darkness with only Skye's voice for company.

"Power's back," he tells her.

"Good, that means Trip and May are out. Can you see the exit from there?"

"Yes."

"Go ahead, don't worry. I have my eye on the entrance, no one's come for you."

It takes him less than a minute to get out of the building.

"The vehicles should be there in a minute, be patient," Skye is saying.

"It's okay."

"I can tell you a joke while you wait..." she tells him. Then a pause. "I don't know any jokes."

"That's fine. Just keep talking to me."

"Sure."

 

+

 

_Keep talking to me..._

They were on a mission, he was on the field. What the fuck is wrong with him?

This time he tries scorching hot water before he tries cold. He tries everything.

He tries shutting off his mind but his minds has other plans, plans which have nothing to do with all his hard-won SHIELD discipline he's tried to use for month. He throws his head back so that the water falls on his face, on his chest.

Maybe he just needs to let go, just once, he reasons, and he knows it's just an excuse.

He imagines Skye's voice in his ear like today, but not talking about the mission or computer exploits. How would it sound, that voice, if she were talking about something more intimate? He imagines Skye talking into his ear about all the things she was going to do to him when he came back to the base.

Cold water is not doing anything for him at this point so he goes back to warm, and his body jolts at the sudden pleasure.

Would she call him _Phil_?

He's not going to need to touch himself, he thinks he could come just from imagining that.

"Skye... please..." he moans, safe in the privacy of the noisy shower, craddled and hidden by the warm water.

He wants to be able to say her name like that, but to her, under her.

He wants her to say his name, whisper it into his ear, like he knows she could.

He is not a complete wreck of a human being. He knows this is not about sex. He loves her. He would be able to get a fucking hold of himself like a goddamn adult if he didn't. Wanting to fuck Skye he can keep under wraps. He's not entirely sure what to do about the loving her part.

He wraps his fingers around his cock and lets the memory of Skye's voice do the rest.

 

+

 

He has calmed down, relatively, by the time he gets out of the bathroom and meets Skye on the hallway.

"I've been looking for you."

"Why?" he asks, a bit too sharply.

"Well, you kind of disappeared right after we all came back. I was worried something was wrong. You're not hurt or anything?"

Her genuine worry makes him feel a thousand times worse.

"No, I'm not hurt."

"That's good," she says, obviously a bit wrong-footed by his coldness. "And you did great. The mission was a success, 100%, which doesn't really happen that often. So yay us. Seriously, you were amazing. We made a good team."

He stares at her face. He loves her. He's not just an old man with dirty fantasies. He loves her. He wonders how the hell doesn't everybody notice just taking one look at his stupid expression. That's why he stills it, pulling back, hiding it at least from the one person he must.

"You're super into this celebration, right," Skye continues. "I just wanted to tell you I'm decrypting the files and I've called a meeting in ten to analyze the data together. If that's all right with you."

He nods, and lets her lead him downstairs.

 

 

 

**v**

She basically runs into the med lab, even though she already heard he was okay through the comms. But she kind of needs to see it with her own eyes.

Things had been relatively quiet lately and she had become complacent, that's what it was. She forgot their job sometimes involved people shooting at them. People shooting _at Coulson_.

It wasn't more than just a very messy scratch, the bullet grazing his shoulder, from what she can see when she walks into the lab. Simmons is working on it, cleaning the wound thoroughly, so much blood for such a small cut. Coulson is shirtless, sitting on the examination table and wincing at the sight of it more than at Simmons applying the disinfectant. He notices Skye entering the room and tries to give her a reassuring glance.

This is probably the worst possible moment for Skye to realize she hasn't seen him this naked before. Like suddenly all the fear and worry of the previous hour has seeped out of her and she's left with... this. Whatever it is. If Coulson is no longer in danger then he's just... _Coulson_. And the familiar routine starts once more. The way she can see the muscles in his neck perfectly drawn by his tense posture. The intriguing way in which she thinks his chest hair is kind of beautiful and how his hair gets darker and thicker in the trail running from his belly downwards, the one that disappears into the hem of his pants. He's been shot, Skye knows she shouldn't be doing this. It's awful. She can't help it, _he's been shot_ , and he's here and alive and she aches for that aliveness of his.

But then she looks at the scar.

Her mouth goes dry.

She tries not to stare at it but she finda it kind of impossible; Coulson catches her, he _catches her looking_ , and regards her intrusion with a neutral glance.

Then Simmons turns around.

"Skye," she says, in stern Doctor Simmons mode. "I'm working on a patient. Some privacy?"

For some reason Skye feels herself beginning to blush.

"Sure. I'm sorry."

She turns around, avoiding Coulson's gaze again.

 

+

 

She tells herself this time it's just the rush of having thought he was hurt, the sharp relief of seeing he was okay

There is something incredibly wrong with her, deeply, deeply wrong.

She rests her forehead on the tiled wall, palms flattened against it, letting the water fall over her back.

Seeing the scar has stirred something inside her, to put it mildly. She has to admit she has always been curious, or at least since she herself was shot and learned the true extent of Coulson's own wounds. And well, she has felt somehow comforted that it wasn't just her, because she doesn't want to sound shallow but she had trouble looking at her stomach after it happened. She is still not comfortable. She draws the shape of the scars now, under the water, and wonders if it was the same for Coulson, and wonders if he would find hers gross, if he would want to look at them, touch them. _Fuck_. She lets out a long, frustrated groan the water thankfully drowns. She thinks she could be okay with her own scarred skin if Coulson would want to see it, to see her.

His scar is shockingly big (she doesn't want to consider how much pain he must have been in) but it's not gross. It's part of him. Part of his story. A part that had a lot to do with Coulson ever meeting her. She can't resent it. She thinks it's beautiful somehow. That probably makes her a sick person, and the fact that she got turned on by seeing it for the first time definitely makes her a freak.

She's not a sex maniac, she's in love. Okay, maybe she is a sex maniac _and_ she is in love. Because being in love with your wonderful boss is no excuse for developing strange scar kinks.

 

+

 

"I'm sorry about before," she says, knocking at the door of his office.

He is already perfectly suited down to the gorgeous gray and black tie, and the white handkerchief in his breast pocket. She watches him take notice of her wet hair.

It takes him a moment to accept her apology.

"It was nothing."

She frowns at herself, mortified about before. And well, she pretty much tells this man everything anyway and though she should know better than to apologize for that too and make him uncomfortable...

"And I'm sorry about _staring_. That wasn't cool of me."

"It's okay." He sits on the edge of his desk. "You hadn't seen it before."

Skye shakes her head.

"It's only fair," he adds. "I've seen yours."

"Yeah but I was unconscious and you were trying to make sure an alien wasn't going to come out, it's not the same." He smiles and Skye feels a little better about the whole thing. At least he doesn't seem to think she finds it gross. "Does it still hurt?"

Coulson nods slowly. "Yours?"

" _Itches_. Doesn't like the cold."

His smile widens. She can hear a little amused noise at the back of his throat.

Godamnit, she wants to tell him that she wants to see the scar again, and touch it, and kiss it. Well, maybe she doesn't have to tell him _everything_.

 

 

**vi**

It surprises that she is the one to end the stalemate, but then realizes it shouldn't.

After all, he's too much of a coward to do anything about it.

"Right, so, we should talk about this," Skye starts.

She's the one who insisted on talking in his office and behind locked doors.

"About what?" he asks, feigning innocence.

"About _this_. It's beginning to affect our work. At least mine it is. And it's ridiculous. I know it doesn't mean anything, you don't have to worry about me thinking it does – but... There's this really annoying thing between us and I would like for it to stop." He just stares at her. Skye's eyes widen a bit in quiet panic. "Please, Coulson, tell me you know what I'm talking about."

Coulson nods, doesn't trust he can do more than that.

"And there can't be, an annoying thing between us," she adds. "Right?"

"Right."

"Because –"

"It could endanger the team."

"Exactly. And it's inappropriate."

"You're half my age."

She makes a weird face, like she wants to argue that point.

 _Please, please, Skye, argue that point_ , he thinks. _Tell me it's not too late for me_. But she doesn't.

"Okay, whatever," she says. "The thing is – it's not good."

"No."

"It's bad."

"Yes."

"And we can't afford distractions, not with everything else the way it is. It's stressing me out."

"I'm sorry," he tells her. But part of him is not sorry. At least she has been affected in some way, too.

"You should be sorry, sir," she says, and the panic melts into something more companionable. "I can't spend my days taking cold showers because of you. It can't be healthy, for one."

Coulson raises his hand, bidding her to slow down for a moment. She does.

"A cold shower?" he repeats, stunned. "You've had the need of a cold shower. Because of me."

"Well, yes," Skye says, shrugging and looking away for a moment. " _Hot and bothered_ is not just an expression. Apparently."

He thinks about apologizing again but he can't.

"But," she adds when she sees he is not going to reply. "We have to–"

"Be professional," he fills in, automatically, but feeling how hollow those words really are to him right now. They sound like a bad joke.

"Like, please, don't wear casual clothes around me," Skye asks him.

He nods.

And Coulson is not about to start policing what Skye wears but god...

"I wish you'd always wear a bra."

She puts her face in her hands. "Shit, I almost died of embarrasment that morning. I didn't think anyone would see me, that was really bad."

He can't help but smile at that.

But he knows that's not the problem. It's not what she wears or how she looks. It's just that she's Skye.

"But I'm going to put a stop to this, I promise you," she tells him, sounding resolved. "I'm going to make you less attractive in my mind. I'm going to focus on your bad qualities."

"Which are?" Coulson asks, because how could he resist.

"I have no freaking idea," she sighs.

He has to press his lips together to keep himself from grinning. What the hell is he supposed to do now?

"You are no big help either," he says. "I don't have a long list of complains."

She tilts her head.

"But..." she starts.

"We have to think about the team."

"The team is what's important," she agrees. "The mission. The mission is –"

"And it's probably not even real, this thing," he says. "Just some circumstancial attraction, because I was in a particular place, and you've never had –"

"I love you," she says, all casual and Skye-like. "I get why we can't do this, you are right, it's not good for the team and I am going to stop, but I just wanted to mention it. Because it's true. I love you."

Those few words, more than anything before, set every nerve ending in Coulson on fire. The trust and the open affection in her voice, that's the sexiest he's ever found her.

He takes a few steps towards her, feeling completely helpless as he closes the distance between them.

"You need to stop," he says, smiling at her and then smiling against her mouth.

The kiss is slow and gentle, but also greedy. It's simustaneously too long for his sanity and not long enough.

You need to stop, he mutters again, or maybe he just says it in his mind. She is too unfair. 

When he pulls away Skye's hand are grabbing his shoulders, like she fears he might go somewhere. He could laugh at the worry.

"This is normally the part where I go to my room and start running the water," she confesses.

"Mmm uh?"

He no longer wants her to stop. He never did. 

He wraps his hands around her hips and Skye first shrinks and then moves into the gesture, sighing audibly as he catches her lips again. This time she is more forceful in her reply, pushing her tongue into his mouth and exploring mercilessly. She's pressing her whole body against his selfishly, leaving him raw and needy in her search for some friction.

Her fingers dig into his shoulder and this time she is the one who has to break it.

"Okay, so this is pretty much the opposite of what we said we'd do."

"What do you suggest?" he asks her. "Another cold shower?"

Skye quirks her lips into a smile. "A hot one."

He tilts his head. Suddenly he realizes what she means.

"Together." Skye nods. Coulson lips part very slightly for a moment, at the image, before he's actually able to speak. "That's a surprising proposition."

"I know, I'm weird. But I want to see you. Don't you want to see me?"

God yes, he thinks, but it might as well kill him, seeing as the question alone is almost enough to make him pass out.

He smiles, fearful and excited, ready for Skye to eat him alive if that's what she wants.

 

+

 

He threads his fingers through her hair as the water falls on it. Skye closes her eyes against the gesture, leaning into him with a pleased noise. He tries not to look at her body too much, because he wants to be able to wait until they are both dry and on his bed. He's already half-hard just from having her undress in front of him. Skye doesn't seem to share that concern, because she has gazed at him from head to toe, with careless intensity. Her face as he took off his clothes and not a word was passed between them was enough make this whole idea worth it.

"The warmth is so nice," she says.

"Skye." She opens her eyes in such a lazy way. "Me too."

"Yeah, everybody likes warm water, it's pretty universal."

"No," he corrects her, quietly. "I love you too."

"Everybody likes hearing that, too."

"Skye..." he pleads, moaning her name.

She moves, slow, into his space, kissing him without their bodies touching. Then her hip brushes against his groin and he groans into her mouth. He can feel Skye smirking against his lips at that, catching the sound between her teeth. He has no shame and no dignity but he loves that she feels smug at the effect she has on him.

"It's okay," she tells him when she breaks the kiss, like she can read his mind. "I got you."

She lifts her hand to his chest, running her fingers over it against the flow of warm water. Her thumb brushes along the tender skin around the edge of his scar.

"Can I?" she asks, voice thick with desire and love.

He nods.

He pulls her hair to one side, caressing the back of her neck as Skye bends down to press her mouth to his chest.

 

+

 

"This is going to make things considerably more difficult for me," she tells him.

"How come?" Coulson asks, opening his eyes from under her hand. She is playing with his hair, sprayed comfortably and without modesty over the bedsheets. He's practically _dead_ , after two rounds and a half, but he's happy that she doesn't plan to let him sleep at all tonight.

"Because all I could do before was imagine," she explains. "But now I've seen you, all of you, and I've seen what you... mm... can do. There's no way I'm getting any work done after knowing what I know. That's it for your communications expert. I'm going to ask for early retirement."

When he has more energy he has to tell her she doesn't need to stroke his ego like that. For now he enjoys the compliment.

"Thank you, you're very nice," he says, graciously. "But that's why we have protocols against this kind of thing happening."

Skye makes a growling sound of disapproval. She seems to want revenge against him for bringing up the protocol crap – he should know better, it's not like he cared very much about rules when he got naked in the shower with her, and he surely knows it's crap by now – so she stops caressing his scalp and props herself on the bed, bending over to kiss him deeply and thoroughly. Not really a great way to get revenge, he thinks, but he is not going to point that out, he's just going to enjoy the way Skye is biting his lower lip.

"Okay then," she says. "I'll to concentrate on the work. But I can't promise I won't be thinking very graphic thoughts about you during work meetings."

Oh, Skye, I can't promise I won't be either, he thinks, feeling hopeless and content at the same time. It's a weird feeling, like comforting vertigo. Falling is scary, but getting caught by Skye is such a reward.

"So little self control," he teases her.

Skye frowns. " _With you_? None whatsoever."

She brings her mouth to his once more, and she scrapes her fingernails across his belly in a gesture that makes Coulson feel like the one in need of some fucking self-control is going to be him.

"Well, if you ever get _hot and bothered_ again..." he tells her. "There's always room in my shower for you."

She smiles like he had just told her he loves her again – which in a way he realizes is what has just happened.

He thinks it's definitely not too late for him.


End file.
